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Wednesday, July 8, 2015

“I am the passenger and I ride and I
ride. I ride through the city's backsides. I see the stars come out of the sky. Yeah, the bright and hollow sky…” – Iggy
Pop

Last month I helped my son Casey drive his car across the country. Which is to
say, that I spent the better part of our 5-day journey sitting in a passenger
seat. And, let me tell you, for a border-line control freak like myself, that
is no easy task. In my family, I drive the bus. I decide where, when, and how
we go. Especially on long road trips! But on this 3000 mile drive, that took us
from New Hampshire to California, I was merely a passenger. And, it was quite
the eye opening experience for me!

Start to finish, this trip was Casey’s baby. He was the one beginning the new
job in San Francisco. He was the one who planned the route, decided the
duration, and determined what (if any) side trips we’d take. For the most part, he wanted to get there as
quickly as possible - 10 hours on the road (covering 650 miles per day) with
each of us driving for about half that distance, on average. We stayed on
Interstate 80 almost the entire time. We gassed up quickly, ate in the car, and
put the hammer down. Making “good time” the whole way.

Now, that is not to say that I didn’t enjoy myself. I did! I took full
advantage of my opportunities to exercise control - wherever possible. I went
for runs up sandy mountains, through sage brush fields and along railroad
tracks that cut through the middle of swamps. I explored the beautiful scenery
around Lake Tahoe, the rocky outcrops of Squaw Valley and the redwood forests
of Muir Woods. And, I made pit stops to see some stunningly beautiful
architecture in Wyoming, Utah and all along the California coast. All places I’ve
never visited before now.

I had a
wonderful time... in between countless hours of staring blankly through the
passenger side window. Or, hanging on for dear life as we careened down twisty-turny mountain passes. Or, slamming on my invisible brake pedal as we zoomed
through California freeway traffic. During these times, my son was in complete control
(usually driving with one hand) and all I could do was sit back and “enjoy” the
ride. What else was there to do, really?

“…I am the passenger. I stay under
glass. I look through my window so bright. I see the stars come out tonight. I see the bright and hollow sky. Over the city's ripped backsides. And everything looks good tonight. Singing, la la la la lalalala…”Another thing that’s been out of my control lately has been my running. It
seems like my Ultra Tour of 2014 has had some serious carry-over into this
year. I’ve been all over the place mentally. I’ve over-trained, under-trained
and wracked my brain. I’ve battled lethargy, fought apathy, struggled with weight gain and even tangled
with depression. But, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get myself back
“on-track” and that’s been a pretty difficult thing to accept. Especially for
someone like me.

I like to plan things out. I like to make a goal and work towards it. Point A
to Point B. With no compromises. But this year has been different. The drive just
isn’t there. And, I don’t know when (if?) it will return. As discussed
previously, I’ve realized that I made a Deal With the Devil to complete my
first hundred miler and now it seems I’m paying the price. Bad
running (and worse racing) has dealt a series of blows to my psyche this year.
And for someone who likes control, I’ve seemingly lost all semblance of it. This was not part of the plan. And
it’s been a very humbling ride.

Speaking of which, I have to laugh when I see the “God
is my co-pilot” bumper sticker on people’s cars. Because, if we’re truly being honest here, God
(or fate, or karma, or luck - if you prefer) is the real pilot out there. Sure,
sometimes we’re able to give directions, or point out obstacles, or areas of
interest along the way. And, if we’re really lucky, we may even be able to call
for a potty break once in a while. But what I’ve come to
realize lately is that, for the most part, we’re pretty much just hanging on for the ride of our
lives.

Now, don’t
get me wrong. This is not a “Woe is me!” way of thinking. That’s a loser
mentality that I absolutely cannot stand. The “What’s the use?” mindset that
keeps people from taking responsibility for their lives. No, on the contrary. This
is more of a “Control what you can, and don’t waste time worrying about the
rest” viewpoint. To me, this thought is like an island of zen, in an ocean of
chaos. And, it’s rather freeing when you begin to think of life on those terms. Accepting what the day brings, but being prepared to make the most of it.

"…Oh
the passenger. He rides and he rides. He looks through his window side. He sees the things that he knows are his. He sees the bright and hollow sky. He sees the city sleep at night. He sees the winding ocean drive...”

Last weekend I had the opportunity
to catch up with world-famous, ultra-runner Scott Jurek during his record
breaking attempt to run the 2178 mile Appalachian Trail in less than 46 ½ days.
I have been following his progress for weeks and, while camping with my family at the beach
in Maine, I decided to take the 2 hour drive up to the AT to see if I could
meet up (and perhaps hike) with him. Unfortunately, the GPS tracker he was
using to upload his whereabouts had stopped working. So, once again, I was put in
a situation that was beyond my control.

If I wanted
to see him, I’d have to be flexible. So, I decided to just focus on
controlling what I could. I had no idea where, when, or for how long I’d need
to hike that day - or night. So, I brought ALL of my hiking stuff with me.
Whether the hike was going to be an out and back, or one big loop. Whether I
had to catch him from behind, or intercept him en-route. Whether I’d be
climbing the Carter-Moriah Ridge, or venturing into the Mahoosucs for the first
time. I’d be ready. Or, at least, as ready as I could be.

Prior to setting sail, I also had
found out through a mutual friend that Scott was craving donuts. Vegan donuts.
So I scoped out a number of vegan bakeries in Maine between the beach and the
mountains. Unfortunately, that number turned out to be two. And one of them was
closed. And, of course, the one that was open had plenty of bagels, but no
donuts. Oh well. Bagels it is. So, bagels in hand I traveled north -
searching for Scott.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to search
very hard as he and his sizable entourage were prepping for that day’s hike at
a Bed & Breakfast right on Route 2 in Shelburne, NH. It was amazing to see
just how big a group he had around him. Two camera crews. Multiple photographers.
A half dozen hikers. And, countless other on-lookers. All the while, he just quietly
sat on the edge of his van putting on his socks, and his shoes, and steeling
himself for the day ahead. His 40th on the trail. It was getting to be crunch
time. Just 6 1/2 more days to travel the remaining 300 miles.

“…And everything was made for you
and me. All of it was made for you and me. 'cause it just belongs to you and me. So let's ride and ride and ride and ride…”

Over the years, Scott Jurek has given so much to the ultra-running community. His
achievements are legend and his generosity has more than matched those
achievements. He
is a worthy ambassador for our sport.
He's got a huge heart, loves ultra-running and wants
to share it with as many people as he can. So, it
should come as no surprise that he’s spent a lot of his time on the trail
shaking hands, posing for pictures and signing autographs. Even at the possible expense
of his goal.

With that in mind, I opted to stay
in the background on this day. Scott Jurek owes me nothing. I was there solely
to encourage him on his journey - like he’s encouraged me on mine through his words
and actions. I was, once again, a passenger on this trip. I was there to soak
in the madness, not add to it. So, I cheered him on as he and his posse headed
down the trail and then I quietly approached Timmy O’Neil (one of Scott’s friends and
trip managers) offering my gift of vegan bagels to Scott and his wife Jenny.

As I was preparing to leave, Timmy approached my car and asked me to come back
to the van and meet Jenny. I was hesitant at first because, as Scott’s primary support
team member (and his wife), I knew she must have been under a significant
amount of stress. But, I soon agreed and was very happy that I did. Jenny was kind,
gracious, thankful for the gift and the subtle show of support. And then she said something that I’ll never
forget... “A lot of people have been asking me if Scott can do it. How far does
he have to go? And, how fast does he have to hike to get the record? And, all I
know is, he’ll do whatever it fucking takes!” She was certainly no passenger on
this adventure! She spoke the words quietly and calmly - yet powerfully. And I
believed her!

Later, out on the trail (despite falling twice and getting lost once) I managed
to rendezvous with Scott and his team as they climbed Mount Success - the last
peak on New Hampshire’s portion of the AT. Soon he would be crossing over into Maine,
the last of 14 states on his epic 2178 mile journey. I smiled and cheered and
encouraged him with all the energy I could muster as he powered up one of the
final big climbs of the day. I could see the strength and determination in his
eyes and secretly hoped that some of that strength would rub off on me and help me seize
control of my own personal challenges.

In the end, I hope that Scott succeeds on the AT and that Casey
succeeds in San Francisco. But, will they? Who knows? I do know that they BOTH have all the tools they need to do
so. But, the rest is beyond my control. And what about me? Do I have what it takes to right the ship and save what's left of my sinking season? Beats me. I'm just a "driver" trying to learn how to let go of the wheel...

Friday, May 29, 2015

When I decided to run (then proceeded to dedicate my life to training
for and finishing) the Ghost Train 100late
last October I didn’t realize the price I’d be paying to do so. Oh sure, I knew
it would be difficult to complete and I knew it would take me some time to
recover. But I never imagined I’d be sitting here (almost 7 months later) still dealing
with the aftermath of that one race.

Come to find out, in order to achieve the goal of finishing my first 100 miler, I’d unknowingly made a deal with the Devil… and he's taken nearly everything!

Friday, May 22, 2015

On May 17th, 2015 the Gate City Strider Running Club hosted a
marathon in the City of Nashua. This feat had never been done before. In fact,
during the 36-year history of the club, it had been extremely difficult to get hometown approval for any race longer than 6k. Never mind trying
to do 5 of them, back-to-back! All while closing down Main Street and running
through almost every corner of the City. So, how did the race organizers do it?
And more importantly, how did they (in the words of one participant) create “An
instant classic on the New England road racing scene”?Well, here’s an inside look at how it all went down…

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Battling to get the kids up
and out the door in the morning, battling with historically bad winter weather,
battling to stay focused at work, battling with cars on the road, battling to
get my weight down, battling with sore and tired muscles, battling to find
enough time in the day to do it all, battling to feed, bathe and get the kids to bed at night, battling with the wife over honey-do lists, battling with the 7-year old
over homework assignments, and battling with the 3-year old over just about EVERYTHING!

It’s WAR! And, it’s damn near
exhausting!

Then, yesterday morning, while
I’m battling to open the bag containing my (not-at-all card-boardy) low-carb
sandwich wrap, I discover that the plastic is perforated - on the opposite end
from which I’m desperately trying to tear. Flip. Zip. And, like that, all that low-carb goodness is suddenly
opened up before me! Ahhh!

Of course, this leads me to wonder
how many other things in my life are “perforated” for my enjoyment? How many
battles could be won just by looking at the problem in different way? How many
doors, that are blocking my path to success, have a secret key that can only be
found by being relaxed and mindful?

Beats me! I’m too tired from all this battling to stop and figure it out. :)

Monday, March 23, 2015

I haven’t written here in a while, because frankly, there hasn't been much going on.

The first two races on my 2015 Calendar were both
rescheduled due to weather and each got moved to dates where I was unavailable to
attend. So, the last time I ran a step in “anger” was 16 weeks ago at the TARC Winter Classic 50k, in early
December. Which is probably the longest non-injury break I’ve ever taken from
racing. And, even then, I was kind of going through the motions at that race as
I was still recovering from Ghost Train.

In the absence of racing, I’ve been doing my normal amount
of training this year. I’ve averaged about 60 miles per week (all outside) during one of
the coldest and snowiest winters I can remember. I’m not injured, and I haven’t
gotten sick. So, I guess I can’t complain too much. Still somehow, on most days lately,
I feel rudderless. Adrift on the training ocean with nothing to steer me or
guide me home.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Late in December of last year, Eric at Level Renner put out the call for winter running action shots as
part of an on-line contest. Tag a few of your favorite Facebook selfies with the #levelrenner hashtag and get a chance to
win a brand new pair of Dion #121
Racing Snowshoes. Always being up for a good, healthy competition (and a free
pair of anything) I jumped at it. Tagging every running picture of myself that
I could find.

A few days later, while picking up my daughter at the airport
after her semester abroad, I found out that I’d won. And before I could even finish
responding to Eric’s text message I thought, “Crap! What am I going to do with
ANOTHER pair of Dions?” So, rather than have them collecting dust in my basement
as a back-up pair for the indestructible #121’s I already owned, or selling
them to a friend, I decided to do something fun with them. I decided to raffle
them off.

Monday, February 9, 2015

In
his groundbreaking book, “Born to Run”, Christopher McDougall discusses a
fascinating, non-weaponized, hunting technique used by pre-historic man. Rather
than trying to outrun their much faster prey, hunters would instead attempt to
outlast them. Because an animal’s natural instinct is to sprint away if
approached, the men would run towards them in an effort to keep them constantly
moving.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

There, I said it. And I’m glad I did. Someone had to,
really. It’s been far too long in coming.

See, there’s this false sense of bravado that tends to manifest
itself around these parts (especially amongst people like myself who don’t run
on treadmills) which maintains that running through harsh New England winters makes
you stronger, tougher, and better prepared for the racing season to come. And,
I’m here today to tell you that line of thinking is total B.S.

Friday, January 30, 2015

Have
you ever been in a relationship where all you do is give, give, give and get nothing
in return? You pour your heart out on a regular basis, and receive little more
than a cold shoulder for your troubles? Well,
that’s the way it is between me and Boston. I love the Boston Marathon. But it
does not love me.

I’ve participated in more than a few 5k’s, 10k’s
and half marathons over the years, but the primary focus of my running career
has always been marathoning. More specifically, Boston Marathon-ing. Like many other
runners who grew up in New England, Boston has always represented the Holy
Grail of running goals. Not just an average everyday goal, but an all-out,
full-blown obsession!

Friday, January 23, 2015

The problem isn’t because of a lack of ideas. Despite not
having raced in over a month, I still have at least a half dozen stories that I
want to get out there. At some point. The problem is that life just seems to be
getting in the way of me carving out the time required to write them. Between
the holidays, preparing for my clubs awards dinner, sick kids, my traveling wife,
and the work involved in getting a brand new MARATHON off the ground, it’s been a pretty busy few weeks.

The other thing that’s been taking the majority of my “free”
time is the writing and editing of my first book. The working title is: “Never Again – Adventures of a Veteran Dad
and Newbie Ultra Marathoner”. I’ve been getting some great feedback on it
so far, and I’m very excited about how it’s turning out. That being said, it’s been
a bit of a grind and it’s seemingly sucking up all my creative juices.

Anyway, the point of this post is to let everyone (who’s still
reading) know that I haven’t forgotten about you, or this blog. And, as soon as
things start loosening up, I plan to continue to post regularly. My goal, as
always, is one new story per week.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

I started 2014, with a January 1st sunrise summit of Mount Monadnock. It was dark - about 6:00am. It was cold – about zero
degrees. It was windy – about 40 mph at the summit. And, it was snowy – about 1
to 2 feet of fluffy base to trudge through. It took me about 4 hours to summit
and return via the 4.5 mile long Pumpelly Trail off Lake Road in Dublin.

So, when I signed up for a Presentation at Keene State College for the last weekend of 2014
(and my travel plans took me right past the ‘Nock) I figured why not end the
year the way I began it? With another Pumpelly trip to the summit. A "bookend"
hike, if you will. Well, as it turns out, the conditions couldn’t have been
more different!